Young Matt would have found some excuse for staying at home the night of the party at Ford’s, but the shepherd said he must go. The boy felt that the long evening with Sammy would only hurt. He reasoned with himself that it would be better for him to see as little as possible of the girl who was to marry Ollie Stewart. Nevertheless, he was singing as he saddled the big white faced sorrel to ride once more over the trail that is nobody knows how old. Mr. Lane was leading the brown pony from the stable as Young Matt rode up to the gate; and from the doorway of the cabin Sammy called to say that she would be ready in a minute. “Ain’t seen you for a coon’s age, boy,” said Jim, while they were waiting for the girl. “Why don’t you never come down the Old Trail no more?” The big fellow’s face reddened, as he answered, “I ain’t been nowhere, Jim. ’Pears like I just can’t get away from the place no more; we’re that busy.” Sammy’s father looked his young neighbor squarely in the eye with that peculiar searching gaze; “Look a here, Grant. I’ve knowed you ever since you was born, and you ought to know me a little. ’Tain’t your way to dodge, and ’tain’t mine. I reckon you know you’re welcome, same as always, don’t you?” Young Matt returned the other’s look fairly; “I ain’t never doubted it, Jim. But things is a heap different now, since it’s all done and settled, with Ollie gone.” The two understood each other perfectly. Said Jim, drawing a long breath, “Well I wish you’d come over just the same, anyway. It can’t do nobody no harm as I can see.” “It wouldn’t do me no good,” replied the young man. “Maybe not,” assented Jim. “But I’d like mighty well to have you come just the same.” Then he drew closer to his young friend; “I’ve been aimin’ to ride over and see you, Matt; but Sammy said you was a comin’ this evenin’, and I ’lowed this would be soon enough. I reckon you know what Wash Gibbs is tellin’ he aims to do first chance he gets.” The giant drew himself up with a grim smile, “I’ve heard a good bit, Jim. But you don’t need to mind about me; I know I ain’t quite growed, but I am a growin’.” The older man surveyed the great form of the other with a critical eye, as he returned, “Durned if I don’t believe you’d push him mighty close, if he’d only play fair. But—but I ’lowed you ought to know it was a comin’.” “I have knowed it for a long time,” said the other cheerfully; “but I heard ‘Preachin’ Bill’ say once, that if a feller don’t fuss about what he knows for sure, the things he don’t know ain’t apt to bother him none. It’s this here guessin’ that sure gets a man down.” “‘Preachin’ Bill’ hits it every pop, don’t he?” exclaimed Jim, admiringly. “But there’s somethin’ else you ought to know, too, Matt. Wash has done made his threats agin the old man down there.” “You mean Dad Howitt?” said Young Matt, sharply. “What’s Wash got agin Dad, Jim?” Mr. Lane shifted uneasily, “Some fool notion of hisn. You mind old man Lewis, I reckon?”